


Three's Company

by LogicalApplication, mandysimo13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, D/s, Dom!John, John's POV, Kissing, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, john likes to watch, sub!Sherlock, threesome negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicalApplication/pseuds/LogicalApplication, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandysimo13/pseuds/mandysimo13
Summary: Both John and Sherlock have noticed Lestrade's interest in them, and are interested in him in return - now they have to present him with the opportunity to join them, and see if they can break that gentlemanly facade.Sherlock is confident that John can guide them all to a very satisfying solution.





	1. Chapter 1 - The Idea

**Author's Note:**

> So, Mandy turned up in my chat one day with an idea - a filthy, filthy idea that I couldn't pass up. And voila, here we are! Enjoy. ~Ivy

Both John and Sherlock had noticed Lestrade’s interest in them. It was often subtle, just slight enough that if you were to blink you’d miss it. But there all the same.

 Of course, Sherlock had known from the minute he showed up to that first crime scene. He had been high as a kite and yet Lestrade had found him attractive, even if his pitying, white-knight personality stayed his hand. Rather than taking advantage of a compromised, young junkie, he chose not to act on his obvious attraction. Not to mention his own personal morals, Sherlock could see that even if his wife cheated he’d be damned if he would stoop to her level - not while they were still technically married, anyways.

At first, Sherlock was relieved. That meant that while he had a potential card to play with the detective, he knew that Lestrade wouldn’t risk his livelihood on a potential scandal. But, if Sherlock was honest, he had found the detective inspector quite attractive, in return. But in the beginning he didn’t want to be a pity fuck, nor did he want to risk losing his avenue to cases, so he never brought the subject up again.

As their association - and hesitant friendship - grew, their mutual respect for each other had trumped whatever baser desires they may have had. Even after Greg divorced his cheating wife, Sherlock never made a move. Thoughts of “what if I eventually fuck it up” flitted through his mind every time he considered it. Somewhat unfortunate, but Sherlock could deal. He had The Work, and then John came along and thoroughly occupied his time.

 

For John, it took a little longer to cotton on. About four months after he moved in to 221B, he and Lestrade were out at the pub watching football when John felt his stare. It seemed a few drinks in and Lestrade was less likely to try and hide his well-buried bisexuality. John, in love with Sherlock and also struggling with his own identity crisis, never made a move. But, he did start noticing things. Glances at Sherlock- at him, when it seemed they weren’t looking. How broad Lestrade’s shoulders were, or the strong line of his jaw. How handsome his pleased grin is. It would have been so easy to experiment, to confirm his sexuality, by giving in to their less-than-sober flirtations. But John wasn’t a total dick. He would never take the chance of hurting Lestrade just to satisfy his own curiosity.

 When John and Sherlock finally got together they quickly learned that the roles they had in everyday life, Sherlock calling the shots and John happily following along, were reversed deliciously in private. Sherlock would need John to take him, _own_ him, rid his mind of everything that wasn’t John. John took great pride and pleasure at being the only one to give that to Sherlock, in being the only one who could take him apart so completely. In this one aspect of their lives, John was in charge.

 

And then, after John saw Sherlock and Lestrade stare each other down, he realized Lestrade’s interests weren’t just in him. The rest of the Yarders didn’t seem to notice anything different from any other day, but John did. From the outside, it looked as if Sherlock was giving him a dressing down, berating him for incompetence, and that Lestrade was stewing in anger. But, if you looked just past that, you’d see that once the yelling stopped and they stood their baring their teeth at each other, they were also silently devouring. John could see that Sherlock wanted to push Lestrade against the wall, could see that Lestrade wanted to shove his cock in Sherlock’s mouth and make him shut up. Their eyes couldn’t help but roam over each other, frantically tracing over lips and fluttering pulses.

 John had definitely been around Sherlock too long. He could read small details and shifts in body language like he never had before. And one of those details was that Lestrade wasn’t just looking appreciatively at them both - he was looking at them both _together_. And that made John hot all over.

And then he got an idea.

 

One night while John and Sherlock were cuddling in bed after a very satisfying round of sex, John broached the subject. He cleared his throat, curling his fingers in Sherlock’s hair, and said, “So, Greg’s looking fit these days.”

Sherlock tensed. John forced himself not to stay relaxed as Sherlock slowly lifted his cheek off John’s chest. “Yes. He is.” He rested his chin on John’s sternum and narrowed his eyes, trying to suss out what John was really trying to say.

Sherlock was a flighty creature at the best of times, so John tried to broach the subject carefully. It would likely not even be a full three minutes before Sherlock saw right through him.

“When you two were going at each other the other day, it was quite the picture.”

 

That penetrating gaze was boring into him, as if Sherlock could pull the thoughts from his head through sheer willpower alone. John had never been cowed by that look before, and he wasn’t going to now.

 

“I suppose it would be. Given your reaction to high stress situations.” Sherlock continued to eye him and ask, “and how did it make you feel, hmm? Watching Greg and I ‘go at each other?’”

 

John let a sly grin slowly spread across his face. “Couldn’t make my mind up if I wanted to stay there and keep watching or go over and get involved, to be honest.”

 

Sherlock seems to enjoy that idea. An intrigued purr, a hum, comes from pursed lips as he settles himself more comfortably against John’s side. “And how, pray tell, would you get involved?”

 

“Well, it seemed like the two of you were butting heads, trying to figure out how to move forward. I think I’d be able to handle that for you both. Guide you a little. I think I’d be more than capable of handling both of you, even worked into a froth like that.”

 

John trails his fingers to Sherlocks nape, exerting a little bit of pressure. Sherlock’s next breath isn’t quite steady.

 

Sherlock licks his lips, closing his eyes as he leans into the pressure at his neck. “Is that so? Do you think Greg would let you guide him? How do you know he wouldn’t take charge of the situation?” Sherlock looks up at John as if to silently add, _and take charge of you_?

 

John grins.

 

“Do you think I’ve ever let anyone command me without me deciding to let them?”

 

Sherlock’s lip quirks, but the pensive expression doesn’t quite leave his face. John presses a kiss into Sherlock’s hair and adds more seriously, “Greg’s a responsible, effective leader. But I think he’s like you - he spends his life trying to keep things under control, and he needs a chance to cede that to someone else. He follows your lead when you’re not winding him up too badly. He’s also a deeply respectful person - he’d never try to upset our working dynamic.”  

 

“I suppose that’s a fair point,” Sherlock replies. “Tell me, _Captain_ ,” Sherlock says with a smirk. He knows what that word does to him, riling John up. His cock gives a hopeful twitch even though it’s just spent. “Tell me what you picture when it comes to me and Greg? Will you have him yourself? Give me to him? Will you use him as a tool, an extension of your hand?”

 

He kisses John’s neck, punctuating his musings with firm kisses. “What about dominating Greg turns you on? What about _Greg_ turns you on?”

 

“That’s a lot of questions in one go. Can’t do anything at a reasonable pace, can you?” In reality, John was playing for a little bit of time to form a coherent answer- those words had prompted way too many images all in one go.

 

Sherlock huffs. “ _John_.”

 

“Yes, yes I know. How about I start with the the last one. Hmmm?” John pauses, trying to find a way to articulate his complex feelings for the Detective Inspector. “He’s a great man - he’s got a good heart, and he always does what is right.”

 

“And your overdeveloped sense of morality couldn’t possibly let you be attracted to someone you didn’t believe was some kind of white knight on the inside”

 

John fingers tighten on Sherlocks neck and his tone turns a little steely. “Do you want an answer, or not?”

 

Sherlock’s next kiss seem trite. “Yes, John.”

 

“Right. Behave, then. As I said, he’s a good guy, and I admire him for that. He’s clever - don’t pull that face, compared to regular people he is - and he always conducts himself with this quiet, driven purpose. He’s also very good looking, and he’s got a wicked sense of humor under all that professionalism.”

 

“He’s not a nice arse, too,” Sherlock interjects, nipping John’s neck gently.

 

John giggles. “Yes, also that.” He brushes a kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head and continues. “As for what I have in mind in regards to the two of you, hard to say. There’s a lot I’d like to do.”

 

“Such as?” Sherlock prompts.

 

“Such as kissing his gorgeous mouth. Don’t look at me like that, you know how much I love your mouth.” John kisses him to prove it, “ridiculous, pouting lips.” Sherlock seems satisfied and lets him go on. “You keep your face clean shaven but Greg keeps his with a bit of stubble and I think that might be nice.”

 

Sherlock nods, agreeing. “When you’ve let your face go a bit scruffy it does leave a unique sensation behind after kissing me.”

 

John chuckles and says, “what a clinical way of saying you enjoy stubble burn.”

 

“I think you’ll find my language is _precise_ , John. We can’t all have a basic vocabulary”

 

“And what _precise_ language would you use to describe what interests you about Greg, hmm?”

 

“My interests are,” Sherlock pauses, gathering his thoughts, “scientific. Carnal. Centered mostly on his cock, mouth, and hands.”

 

John hums in acknowledgment. “And? What else?”

 

“I want to see him lose control. He’s a hot blooded man, prone to outbursts. I should know, I’ve been on the receiving end on more than a few of his angry tirades. But he quickly reins himself in before he does anything he’d regret. Cathartic as it might be.”

 

“You want to see him give into some of his baser desires,” John fills in for him.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“And I’ll bet going to your knees and earning back his good favour is an attractive idea, when he’s been furious with you. I bet part of you has been desperate to keep pushing, to make him snap and pull you back into line.”

 

“It’s not an unattractive concept.”

 

“I think it’d be even more attractive if you could do that whilst preserving a little bit of that pride of yours - if you had no choice but to appease him, because you’d been told too”

 

Sherlock goes momentarily still. “That’s… yes. An intriguing idea. Would you tell me exactly what you wanted me to do?”

 

“In detail.”

 

Sherlock’s fingers begin tracing patterns in John’s skin, making his body vibrate and crackle with rising arousal. John lets his fingers slide up to Sherlock’s scalp, running his fingernails along his delicate skin. He fists Sherlock’s hair gently, pulling a soft groan from him.

 

“That,” Sherlock swallows thickly, “that would be very good. I’d like that.”

 

“You like when I order you around.”

 

“Obvious.”

 

“You’d like it if I ordered you to service Greg. To have you use your mouth to bring him off, your hands to make him moan and writhe. Would you like to fuck him? Bury your cock inside him? Or  would you prefer it if he took you instead? Do you think he’d enjoy watching me open you up, knowing he could just plunge right in?”

 

Sherlock moves against him, his cock rising against John’s thigh. “John,” Sherlock whispers, voice a tad shakey.

 

“Maybe you’d like to take us both at the same time - have him fuck you while you suck me off? Or maybe he could fuck you while _he_ sucks me, and if you’re good, we can both get you off after.”

 

Sherlock is looking a bit dazed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his hips start hesitant, hitching movements against John’s leg. John uses his hold on Sherlock's hair to pull his mouth closer to his own, to breathe his next words across Sherlocks lips.

 

“What do you think, hmm? Does that sound good? I reckon if we do it right, I can have you both under by the end. Have him sucking me exactly how I want, helping me get you off exactly how I please, while you hold so still for us.”

 

John’s spare hand trails across Sherlock’s ribs, playing over skin as it moves down his body. He briefly grips the crest of Sherlocks hip to still their movement, before trailing around to trace what must be maddeningly light touches over Sherlocks balls.

 

“Answer me, Sherlock.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock says, a tad breathless. “I want that. All of it. More.”

 

John loves it when he’s able to render Sherlock almost speechless. His words lacking their usual surgical precision, their standard finesse. It makes John feel powerful, the heady notion that Sherlock is getting off just from John’s words alone and that’s all it takes to get Sherlock in the right headspace to submit to him.

 

“Do you think we should ask him, hmm? Ask him if he’d like to join us?”

 

Sherlock shakes his head. “No, don’t be that direct.”

 

John smiles, “and why’s that?”

 

“It’ll scare him off. He’s too much inside his own head to let go if given the direct offer. He’ll need some persuading.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Have to present it to him slowly, like dipping your toes into a pool. Have to ask him when his desires are right at the surface, when he’s most likely to agree.”

 

“A bit manipulative,” John cautions.

 

“We both know we wouldn’t proceed without consent. He just needs to want it more than he wants to be a ‘gentleman’.”

 

John considers that a moment while he tugs Sherlock’s head back to have a taste of Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock gasps, squirming against him and seeking friction. John curls his hand around his hip and pushes to roll Sherlock underneath him. Sherlock’s legs come to wrap around him immediately, hips struggling to move.

 

“We’ll discuss this further when you haven’t drained all the blood from my brain with all your talk.” John thrusts his hips, dragging his cock along Sherlock’s.

 

“ _My_ talk? God, John, can you not see what state I’m in right now? You’re one to talk. Do something, I can’t handle any more goddamned teasing.”

 

John’s hand takes firm hold of Sherlocks jaw.

 

“You will handle whatever I tell you to handle. Right now, you will handle me getting off, because picturing you on your knees, sucking Greg’s cock just how I tell you, has got me pretty fucking horny.”  

 

John licks his palm and slides it down to wrap around both of them. He’s too on edge for another round like the one prior to this conversation - and Sherlock seems to be in much the same way.

 

“God, you’d look spectacular, your hands behind your back, his hands in your hair, tuned to his every reaction and every word I say. He’d resist you teasing him, try to thrust, but I’ve forbidden you to let him and you’re so good for me.”

 

The noises Sherlock is making have started rising in pitch, his jaw falling open as he gasps for air. John rocks up onto his knees to free the arm he’d been using for balance. While his left hand works over their cocks, he presses three fingers from his right against Sherlocks mouth.

 

“Go on, suck them like you’d suck him.”

 

Sherlock’s mouth is hot, wet, and John can feel his moans vibrating across his fingers as Sherlock’s tongue sweeps over his fingertips. The noises he’s making send shivers of pleasure that course through him. The warm slick of Sherlock’s mouth makes John stroke them faster, driving towards their climax.

 

“Can you handle it, Sherlock? Holding off, not coming until I tell you while I tell Greg to try his best to get you to disobey me? What would make you happier? Breaking the rules, making me punish you and praise Greg right in front of you? Or would you be a good boy for me and control yourself long enough for me to give you permission? Which would be sweeter to you?”

 

Sherlock is beyond answering. His only reply is a hard suck to the fingers in his mouth as he pushes his hips up against John’s. He’s desperate. John knows he wants to cry out, wants to tell John to bring them both off. He wants permission to come.

 

Lucky for him, John is too close, too wound up to tease them both for much longer.

 

“When I come, you can come. I want you to feel what you’ve done to me. Are you ready? I’m so close, so ready for you to feel it, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock jerks his head as much as he’s able, moaning in desperate agreement.

 

John focuses on the arousal that he’s been trying to stave off. He lets himself go, his cock pulsing and spurting as he groans. He presses himself into Sherlock, twitching with endorphins while Sherlock whines around his fingers.

 

“Feel that? Feel what you’ve done for me? Go on then, sweetheart. I want you to come, gorgeous.”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sherlock comes. His body goes taut, legs clenching around John’s waist as he tries not to bite down on John’s fingers. John strokes him through it, letting him go once his cock is spent.

 

They’re both breathing like they’ve sprinted 300 metres uphill. John eases sideways, stretching to snag some form of clothing from the floor to clean up with. He thinks it’s his own t-shirt he ends up with - probably better than anything high-maintenance of Sherlock’s. He gently cleans both of their mess from Sherlock’s belly, while Sherlock seems dead to the world. When John settles down next to him, Sherlock curls into him. John adores him like this - relaxed in his affections, not withholding anything.

 

After their breathing has slowed, John speaks again.

 

“I guess we’ll have to start thinking how to broach this with Greg. Figure out if he’s definitely interested in actually joining us, and not just by the idea of it.”

 

Sherlock’s voice is slow, sleepy. “I’ve got some ideas”

 

John smiles.

 

“I bet you do.”


	2. Chapter 2 - The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, they're ready to make a fantasy into a reality... but how will Greg react?

The next couple of weeks is a mix of the usual domesticity and Sherlock’s new obsession with getting Greg to join in on their fun. A perfectly quiet afternoon of sipping tea and reading the paper is disrupted when Sherlock asks, “would you like Greg to come in me?”

John sputters into his tea, looking agog at Sherlock with liquid dripping from his face. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve just gotten access to Greg’s medical records-”

“Bit not good-”

“And it seems that our good detective is clean of all nasty diseases. As are you and I. Which begs the question: do you want him to come in me?”

John blinks. Processing the question. He counters with, “would you?”

Sherlock replies, “there is an appeal to that. But if we’re having you calling the shots, I’d just like to know what might occur.” He hits John with a penetrating stare. “Do you want to watch me swallow Greg’s come? Watch it leak out of me?”

John’s cock is rock hard and suddenly he can’t think straight. Being Sherlock’s lover comes with all manner of surprises and this day is no exception. He knows what Sherlock looks like covered in his own release. The sticky glisten, that ooze that sends a primal, possessive wave through John every time he comes inside him. The thought of seeing Greg shoot off inside Sherlock, on Sherlock’s skin, knowing that he let Greg do it, makes his mouth water.

“I think I would.”

And life continues on as normal as if the conversation never occurred.

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next few weeks the pattern repeated - more conversations were had about what they would allow to happen, how they would like to broach the subject to Greg, if they would consider bringing Greg in as a third more often if the first time went well. Sherlock probed Greg in subtle ways to gauge his interest and, finding his results satisfying, they continued their planning. They talked until they had completely ironed out the details. They were as ready as they could be.

It was four weeks later when they finally got their chance to put their plan into action.

Sherlock had deliberately taken a case that was only barely a six, in order to allow them to play it out how they wanted. Sherlock withheld the solution until they were safely within New Scotland Yard, where the option for semi-privacy would hopefully come into play.

One part of the plan doesn’t need much falsification - Sherlock is in an absolute terror of a mood. He’s annoyed by the case, frustrated by how long it has taken to get to the point of making a move on Greg, and has been driven to distraction by the plug John had put in his arse that morning. It’s been moving around inside him _all day_ and he’s worked himself into a temper by the time they meet Greg to deliver the final details, and it’s hardly any time at all before he’s lashing out.

 

“Honestly, Lestrade, it’s one thing to have incompetent team members but to not notice such blatant stupidity practically makes you as bad as them!”

 

“Oi, lay off, will you! These are good people and they’re doing their best and I won’t have you bad mouthing them just because they don’t live up to your ridiculous standards!”

 

“If expecting them to have some modicum of intelligence to see what is right in front of their faces is a high expectation, I dread to think what standard you hold them too. Perhaps the same level of awareness you yourself allocated, which allowed this absolute moron of a criminal to conduct _four_ home invasions in the space of six weeks!”

 

“Sherlock! That’s quite enough. In here, _now_ ” John grabs Sherlocks wrist and Greg’s elbow and marches them into Greg’s office. He closes the door behind them, pleased to find the blinds already drawn and that he won’t have to deal with those.

 

John points to Sherlock and a chair next to Greg’s desk and says, “you, sit, _now!_ ” Then, more gently, he directs Greg to sit on the edge of his own desk.  

 

“Now, I have had _quite_ enough of your bickering back and forth.”

 

“John, if you would just-”

 

“No,” John says, pointing a finger in Sherlock’s direction. “You’ve opened your mouth plenty and it is my turn to talk.” Sherlock huffs and closes his mouth, crossing his arms petulantly.

 

John turns to address Greg. “I’m sorry, Greg. Things seem to have gotten a little out of hand.”

 

Greg, trying to shrug off his irritation exhales sharply out of his nose. “Apparently.” He gives Sherlock an angry side-eyed glance. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Sherlock stares right back but keeps his mouth shut.

 

“Sherlock,” John says.

 

“Yes, _John?_ ”

 

“I think you should apologize to Lestrade.”

 

Sherlock sniffs indignantly, spine straightening as he visibly bristles. “For what?”

 

John slowly, methodically closes the distance between them and bends down so that their faces are level. “I want you to apologize for shouting at Greg today and the countless other times you’ve shouted at him in front of his team. You want to talk about being unprofessional, hmm? You, who goes off like a prima donna whenever someone can’t read your mind?”

 

Sherlock averts his eyes. “I don’t have to cater to such -”

 

John places a firm grip on the back of Sherlock’s neck and uses it to pull Sherlock forward until he tips forward out of his chair, onto his knees on the floor.

John glances up at Lestrade, whose face is is by now caught between utter bewilderment and restrained arousal. He looks back down to Sherlock.

 

"I think you misheard me. It happens sometimes. I said. You will. Apologize. To Lestrade. I think that he is owed an apology at least once, don’t you agree,” he says, turning to face Greg, himself.

 

Greg gives John a somewhat bemused looking smile and says, “It certainly wouldn’t go unappreciated but this is really not necessary...”

 John turns back to Sherlock. “You see that, Sherlock, Greg’s willing to let the matter go. He’s not unreasonable. Now,” he addresses Greg once more. “Are you sure you don’t want him to make up for being a shit?”

 

Greg is looking completely overwhelmed, but is slowly getting swept up in the moment they’re creating.

 

“I mean, if he’s willing…”

 

John smiles encouragingly.

 

“He is. How would you like your apology? Sitting on the edge of your desk or in your chair?”

 

Greg’s brow creases in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Sherlock is going to apologize, aren’t you, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock, attention firmly on the other two men in the room, nods and says, “yes.”

 

“Good. So, I’ll ask again. Greg, how would you like your apology?”

 

Greg, still confused, gestures to the space around him and says, “right here is as good as any place. But, are you sure that-”

“You heard him, sweetheart,” John tells Sherlock. “Best get to putting that mouth to work.”

 

Sherlock’s tongue sweeps across his bottom lip as his eyes travel from John to Greg.

 

“Off you go” John encourages him with gentle pressure on his neck, conscious that Sherlock may need a bit of reassurance now the possibility of touching someone that isn’t John is so real.

 

He shuffles - far more gracefully than should be possible - closer to the desk where Greg is resting.

 

“I apologise for my behaviour, Lestrade. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” He moves even closer, his chest nearly touching Gregs knees. “Lestrade. Greg. Will you allow me to make amends for the things I’ve said?”

 

Greg nervously licks his lip and stutters out a quick yes. Sherlock places his hands on Greg’s legs and slides them upwards, slowly so as not to startle him. Greg remains completely still, tense, as if John and Sherlock would suddenly pull away and play it all off as one big joke.

 

When Sherlock gets to Greg’s belt he asks, “may I?”

 

Greg looks up at John, still very much in shock. John nods encouragingly, his tongue peeking out as his smile turns predatory.

 Greg turns back to Sherlock and nods jerkily, wordlessly. Sherlock deftly undoes his belt and opens his fly, then palms Greg’s burgeoning erection through his pants, urging it to harden further. Greg can’t look away, his mouth agape and mind reeling. He can’t help but wonder- _How did I get here?_ as his cock fills out. He watches as Sherlock pulls him out, those big hands surprisingly nimble.

 Greg sighs in relief when he’s released from the confines of his clothes. Sherlock’s eyes glance up at him, taking in Greg’s appearance. _I can’t imagine what I look like right now_ he thinks, hoping he isn’t coming off as scared or over eager.

 Sherlock looks to John once more, as if asking for permission or reassurance.

 

John closes the distance between them and lays his hand gently on Sherlock’s head and says warmly, “go ahead. It’s alright.”

 

Then, without anymore hesitation, Sherlock opens his mouth and wraps his lips around the head of Greg’s cock.

 At first touch, both Sherlock and Greg groan. Greg shoves his fist in his mouth to quiet himself, but he can’t muffle himself entirely. “ _Jesus_ ,” Greg whispers against his knuckles. Sherlock begins to slide up and down his cock, slowly filling his mouth and running his tongue across his frenulum and slit. Greg hisses through his teeth, trying to keep himself from moaning too loud.

 

“Careful Greg,” John chides. “You don’t want anyone else to hear you, do you?”

 

Greg shakes his head. “No, but...christ, his _mouth_.”

 

“It’s good, isn’t it? He’s such a good little cocksucker.” He pets Sherlock’s head again and Sherlock visibly shivers. “Aren’t you Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock hums in agreement, pulling another moan from Greg.

 Greg looks between them, at Johns hand resting on the back of Sherlock’s head, at those lips stretched around him. John’s gaze is on Sherlock, and he’s very clearly aroused. But then he looks up at Greg, and the heat in his gaze doesn’t dissipate. Greg watches, pinned to the desk by that stare, as John steps forward so he has Sherlock between his legs. He leans in and Greg remains hypnotized as John comes closer, until his breath is ghosting over Greg’s mouth. It’s Greg that closes the final inches and brings their lips together.

 John’s mouth is intoxicating, and Greg is immediately on the back foot - John is an absolutely filthy kisser and Greg is just along for the ride. Tongue is involved from the beginning, sweeping over Greg’s mouth and _inside_ to play with his own. He has to pull away and gasp for breath as delicious vibrations stir him - Sherlock is looking up at them and positively moaning around his mouthful of cock.

 

“Jesus….”

 

“Is he making you feel good?”

 

“Fucking hell, yes”

 

“Look at that, Sherlock. You’re doing so well”

 

Greg can feel the answering moan around his dick and he’s _so close_ already.

 

“John,” Greg gasps, “I...I want-”

 

“Tell me Greg, what do you want?”

 

“I’m so close,” he pants against John’s lips. “I need to,” Greg swallows thickly, clenching his eyes closed to try and focus on getting words out. “I want to come.”

 

With both hands, John tilts Greg’s face to the side and places careful kisses along his jaw. “So come. That was the whole point of this apology, to make you feel good.” He takes one hand and drops it to Sherlock’s crown of mussed curls and says against Greg’s skin, “don’t stop Sherlock, you heard him. Finish him like a good boy.”

 

Sherlock’s answering moan makes them all groan, so visceral and provocative. His head bobs faster, the sucking sounds becoming more obscene and it’s all so much. _Too much_.

 

Greg asks, unsure, “in his mouth? You want me to come in his mouth?”

 

John hums in the affirmative, making Greg shudder. “Of course. He loves it.”

 

“Oh god,” Greg groans, hands grasping John’s shoulders as he finally lets go. His hips pump and twitch with pleasure as he fills Sherlock’s mouth. Suddenly, Sherlock’s hands are there, grabbing his thighs to hold him still while he suckles down every drop of his release until he’s shivering with oversensitivity. He pulls off with an obscene pop and looks up at the two men over him, licking his lips. He carefully tuck Greg away, before resting his hands on his thighs, where his fingers clench fretfully. He looks up to John, who is smiling down at him.

 

“Look how well you did, Sherlock. You’re so good for us. I’m sure Greg will forgive you now, won’t you, Greg?”

 

So strung out, unable to muster anything more eloquent, he huffs out a raspy, “fffuuucking hell, _yes!.”_

 

Sherlock’s eyes close briefly, as he seemingly basks in the praise. John cards a hand through his hair, and smiles encouragingly at Greg, nodding his head downwards. Greg dares to do the same, and Sherlock’s eyes open. He smiles up at them, before biting his lip. His knees move restlessly against the carpet, and his fingers are scratching against the fabric of his trousers. Greg looks up to John, who is smiling knowingly.

 

“Look at him, he’s just about ready to come in his pants, just from sucking you off.”

 

Greg gasps a little at that, noting the bulge in Sherlocks trousers, but equally, how well he remains on his knees, waiting.

 

“And… will you let him?”

 

John’s smile turns dirty.

 

“Well, I rather think that that’s the kind of thing best done elsewhere…” Greg dies a little inside, at that. “...so if you’d like to accompany us home, we can reward him for being a good boy”. Greg can barely believe his luck - he’d never dared hope for as much as this.

 

“That,” he says, licking his dry lips, “is an offer I cannot refuse.”

 

“Excellent,” John says, leaning in to kiss him once more. After pulling back he says, “let us leave first. Sherlock will look properly abashed,” he gives Sherlock a cheeky grin, “and you can follow once you’ve caught your breath. Meet us downstairs, we’ll get a cab together.”

 

Greg nods and his mouth automatically replies, “yes, John.”


	3. Chapter 3

The cab ride back to Baker Street is silent. John sits between him and Sherlock, a warm but firm hand resting on their knees. His thumbs stroke them through their trousers, soothing them like one would an excited animal. Greg, calm but still buzzing from his spectacular orgasm, closes his eyes and breathes softly and evenly, head pressed against the cool glass of his window. Sherlock is the exact opposite; his body still but his hands fidgeting with everything and anything he can touch. His phone, his hair, nails drumming on the glass or his knee, still keyed up with unspent arousal. 

 

John, for his part, is calm and attentive. He sits between them with a small smile on his face as he takes turns looking at each of them while the city of London passes by their windows. 

 

At one point, Sherlock leans towards him and John tucks Sherlock’s head against his shoulder, gently murmuring into his hair. Greg turns his attention to the road passing by outside the cab, trying to give them a moment. He’s privileged enough to be joining them - it should be on their terms. He’s well aware now of their dynamic, and if Sherlock needs a moment with John he’s not going to deny him. 

 

John pays the fare when they arrive - he gently but firmly directs them to the pavement as he pulls out his wallet. Seeing Sherlocks unquestioning obedience leads his own, and he follows Sherlock onto the chilly street. He almost startles when he feels a firm hand on his back, steering him towards the front door of 221B.

 

“We’ll go inside, get settled and have a quick chat, hmm? Then we can enjoy ourselves.”

 

John’s tone is firm, but calm- most of the yard have heard John’s authoritative tone in some crisis or another, but this is… different. He’s still commanding, inviting no challenge, but there’s no anger in his tone. He’s relaxed, very much in control... and it’s exhilarating.

 

They climb the seventeen steps up to 221B and John lets them in. Wordlessly, John directs a look at Sherlock and he clears his throat. 

 

Sherlock asks in a quiet voice, “can I take your coat?” John makes an “ahem” noise and he quickly adds, “Greg.”

 

“Sure, yeah. Thanks,” Greg replies, shrugging out of his jacket. Sherlock takes it and John’s and goes to hang them in the hallway. Only after their coats are taken care of does he take off that great Belstaff - more cape than coat - and hangs it neatly next to theirs. 

 

Then, taking a deep breath, Sherlock says, “tea.” Without waiting for any replies, he goes to busy himself in the kitchen preparing the kettle. 

 

Greg, unaccustomed to seeing Sherlock so...amenable, can only stare, mouth slightly agape. He jerks a thumb in Sherlock’s direction in the kitchen and asks John, “am I dreaming?”

 

John laughs and shakes his head. “Want me to pinch you?” John raises a cheeky eyebrow and Greg has a feeling he knows where that pinch would land. His laugh joins John’s easily and he takes a seat on the couch. He opens his mouth to ask another question but John stops him. “I know you must have a hundred questions but why don’t we wait for Sherlock, hmm?”

 

Greg nods, “er, right. Sure.” 

 

John smiles at him and takes a seat next to him on the couch. They hear the kettle whistle, water slosh into cups, and the other sounds associated with making a tea tray and it sounds so very domestic and not at all what he had been expecting it all throws Greg through a loop. After what seems like an age and yet far too soon, Sherlock appears from the kitchen carrying a tray with three steaming mugs and a small plate of biscuits. 

 

John takes a look at Greg and seems to take sympathy. 

 

“Maybe something stronger, too, Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock disappears and when he returns, places a bottle next to the tray. John picks up his tea and leans back into the sofa. He tips his head to the side, and Sherlock joins them on the couch, sitting the other side of John. Greg reaches out and adds a good measure of whiskey into his mug before taking a sip. 

 

John leads the conversation. “So, I think the basics of this are pretty obvious by now.”

 

“Yeah, seems pretty obvious that you two,” Greg gestures at the two of them with his finger and hesitantly says, “are into some-”

 

“We’re in a submissive dominant relationship, yes,” Sherlock says, taking a prim sip of his tea. 

 

John’s low voice says warningly, “Sherlock.” 

 

“We’re on pause at the moment. It’s question and answer time. I can say what I like.” For good measure he sticks his tongue out at him before taking another sip of tea. Greg chuckles lightly, shaking his head at the surrealness of it all. 

 

John says nothing and just rolls his eyes. “So, what are your questions?”

 

Greg takes a bracing sip of his spiked tea and lets it savor over his palette before answering. Then, taking a deep breath he asks, “well, first off I’d like to know why me? I mean, I never imagined you two were the type to share. And I have to be honest, I never thought that I was anyone’s first choice as far as threesomes go.”

 

Sherlock blinks at him in confusion. “Why ever not? You’re very attractive under that ill-fitting suit. You have a job that exerts your power and authority. You’re embarrassed with your greying hair but you really shouldn’t be, it adds an air of sophistication and - now, if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you - makes you a “silver fox”, as far as I’m concerned. Your face is very expressive, your hands are large and capable-looking.” Sherlock leans over, trying to get a better view of him and adds, “and I do rather enjoy looking at your arse behind your back.” 

 

John chuckles and adds, “uhm, what he said.” 

 

“That, and we’ve caught you staring more than once. We appreciated your...appreciation of our assets,” Sherlock said with a sly smile. 

 

Greg is incapable of moving, frozen in shock. He had always found both John and Sherlock attractive, in different ways, but he never thought they would find  _ him _ attractive. Sherlock is all model, posh and sophisticated with an air of untouchable elegance, when he wasn’t opening his mouth and shouting abuse at him. John is all compact power, like he could throw you around whilst whispering sweet-nothings in your ear and make you breakfast in the morning after he’d fucked you silly. He’d definitely had a wank or two thinking of Sherlock’s lips or John’s hands and while he’d felt a tad guilty afterwards it was never enough to make him stop. 

 

It’s clear he’s been silent too long in his processing so he clears his throat and says, “right,  well. Thank you.” He took another sip from his cup, thinking over his next question. “What are your rules?”

 

Sherlock looks to John, seemingly not as bossy during a ‘pause’ as he’d have anyone believe. John raises an eyebrow and smiles at him before turning back to Greg. 

 

“Well, we’ve discussed it, and we’re both happy to involve you. Sherlock is submissive to me, and of course what happens with you is entirely your choice - but I’d like to extend that dynamic to include you, too. How far and what that looks like is up to you.” Johns pauses, before flashing a cheeky grin “No matter what you decide, though, I don’t think you’d be dom-ing  _ me _ ”

 

Greg snorts a little - he’s seen John’s patient resistance to Sherlocks mania, and he doubts anyone has ever managed to dominate John without his express approval. 

 

John continues, “I think it’s best if we keep it relatively basic tonight - no pushing for any hard limits” John pauses, seeming to think for a moment, “most basic things are on the table, but how about we proceed one thing at a time and we can check in for how comfortable everyone is as we go? To start - I will be directing Sherlock, and if you want, you as well, Greg. If you want to touch him, you may, but I will direct how he responds. We’ve discussed our boundaries at length and he trusts me, so I need you to as well - I won’t put Sherlock in a position he’s uncomfortable with.”

 

John turns and presses a kiss into Sherlock’s hair. 

 

“But to give you something to go on - you may touch either of us as you wish for now. We can use the traffic light system for safe words, I think. Are you familiar with that?”  

 

Greg shakes his head. 

 

“It’s pretty simple. Green means yes, you’re happy to continue. Yellow means you want to stop the current activity but not everything, and red means stop altogether. You can say a colour at any time, and I may periodically ask you for a colour to check how you’re doing.”

 

“Seems simple enough”

 

“That’s the idea. We’re also both clean - we were tested when we got together, just in case, and neither of us have been with anyone else since. If you’re comfortable, we can forego protection. But it’s no problem if you’d rather not.”

 

“I suppose it’s best if I don’t ask how you know I’m clean, too.”

 

An apologetic grin crosses John’s face. “Probably, yes.”

 

“Well, I’m clean, so… I think I’d like to go without”

 

“Brilliant. As with everything else, if you change your mind, just say. It’s important we communicate - there won’t be any fallout, unless you hold something important back.” 

 

Greg nods. “That seems fair.” He deposits his empty cup on the table and lays his hands palms down on his knees. He looks at John and Sherlock and says nervously, “I haven’t really done this kind of thing before.” 

 

Sherlock smiles reassuringly and touches his head to John’s. “Neither had I. It’s unnerving, at first, being okay with the loss of control. But I can’t say I don’t enjoy it.” He pets John’s arm lightly, “he takes care of me. I never have to worry that I’m truly out of control when he’s the one calling the shots.” 

 

Greg’s heart warms, never imagining he’d ever hear or see Sherlock so demonstrative. The idea of submitting, even a little, to John was...intriguing. He certainly wasn’t one to shy away from adventure or self discovery and if he could do it while possibly fulfilling some of his own filthy fantasies then who was he to fight it. 

 

Mind made up, he said, “Sherlock, I’d very much like to kiss you.” 

 

Sherlock turns to John, slipping off the sofa in the process. John smiles at him “You heard him. Why don’t you show him what else that mouth can do, hmm? On your knees in front of him to start with, I think”

 

Sherlock gracefully obeys, and then Sherlock is on his knees before him again - but this time, he’s leaning up rather than down and that maddening cupid’s bow is  _ so close _ . Greg is desperate to know how it tastes. 

 

“It’s okay, Greg. I want to see what you look like, the two of you. Kiss him.” 

 

Who could resist such a thing? Greg closes the remaining distance and  _ oh, that’s perfect _ . Sherlock is no less masterful than John, but he’s following rather than leading. As Greg invites him deeper, his tongue slides into Greg’s mouth. Greg can’t resist a nibble on that plump lower lip, and feeling Sherlock moan into his mouth is addicting and he wants  _ more _ . Sherlock pulls back and looks to John. 

 

“God, the two of you… you look… fucking incredible. How about we step it up a bit, hmm? Greg, sit back into the sofa. Put your hands along the backrest, for now. Sherlock, why don’t you sit in Greg’s lap?”

 

When Sherlocks weight settles across his legs, Greg can practically feel the blood rush from his head to his cock. Sherlock leans down to kiss him again, and Greg has to concentrate very hard not to grab hold of him. Just as it starts to get difficult, he feels pressure on his wrists. John is leaning over Sherlock’s back, holding Greg’s wrists. He grins over Sherlocks shoulder, before biting gently into Sherlocks neck. 

 

“Do you both like this? It looks spectacular.”

 

Sherlock’s voice is a gorgeous rumble and he moans an agreement. 

 

“Hmm, move over, Sherlock. I want a go.” Sherlock makes a grumpy noise against Greg’s mouth. “It’s okay, you don’t need to go far - I want his mouth, for a bit.”

 

Sherlock pulls back, grins, and attaches his mouth to Greg’s neck. Greg barely has time to gasp a breath before John is kissing him again. 

 

Greg moans into John’s mouth, following his lead as John’s kiss grows hungrier by the second. He feels deliciously trapped in his body, his wrists caught under John’s hands and pressed into the couch, Sherlock’s weight pressing down on him as he sucks and bites at his neck, John’s tongue invading his mouth to steal his breath. His hips move, trying to buck up and find any small amount of friction to relieve the tightness in his trousers. 

 

Sherlock’s voice startles him, “oh  _ Greg _ , you’re so hard under me.” 

 

John breaks their kiss, “is that right, sweetheart? Have we made him hard again?” 

 

“Yes,” Greg whispers, hardly able to contain himself. 

 

John smiles wickedly. “Let’s have the doctor take a look, shall we?” His hand snakes between Greg and Sherlock, sliding down Greg’s taut torso until he finds what he’s looking for. Greg bites his lip and his head drops back with a whine when John cups him through his trousers. “You’re very right, Sherlock.” He takes one hand from Greg’s wrists and directs Sherlock’s head to look down. Greg knows, even though he’s not been told, that he’s to keep his hands exactly where they are. “Look at what we’ve done, Sherlock.”

 

“I felt it,” Sherlock replies, voice thick with desire. 

 

“I want you to  _ really  _ feel it,” John tells him. “Go ahead, reach out your hand and touch him. Feel how hard his cock is.” 

 

Sherlock is quick to comply, laying his palm and curling his fingers slightly to feel the bulge of Greg’s erection. “Oh…”

 

“Fuck,” Greg says, gripping the leather under his fingers tightly. He wants nothing more than to touch, too. He wants to grab Sherlock’s arse, John’s thighs, anything solid and fleshy would do. He bites back another whine and John is quick to correct that. 

 

“Don’t hide your noises from us, Greg. In this house, we let all noises out unless otherwise specified.”

 

“Yes, John.” 

 

“Allow me to demonstrate,” John says. His hand moves quickly to grip Sherlock’s hair and tug, exposing his neck which he swiftly dives on, biting fiercely. 

 

“ _ AH! Fuck, John!” _ Sherlock cries, hands flying to grip Greg’s chest. He squirms,  _ writhes _ , in Greg’s lap as John assaults his neck. Every sound is loud and wanton and unashamed. It’s a very effective demonstration. After a long minute, John releases him and he slumps forward, his forehead pressing into Greg’s, breathing heavily. 

 

Greg needs to hear that again. “I want to do that. Show me how to do that” John’s hand holds Sherlock’s head still, and with the other his fingers indicate a spot under Sherlocks jaw. “Let’s see how well you can follow instructions… if you do it well enough, he’ll positively howl for you. Kiss him, here.”

 

Greg is in a hurry to comply, and gets his mouth on Sherlock’s neck before John has quite removed his fingers. Feeling a little bold, he sucks on them gently before they slip away. “Oh, you’re a  _ tease _ , Greg. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

 

Greg grins a little before concentrating on applying his mouth to Sherlocks neck. His skin is smooth, and warm. “Hmm, good. Now, use your teeth - graze him, a little. Tease him”

 

Greg does so, and Sherlock’s hips make little hitching motions in his lap, which is very distracting. “Mmm, he likes that, see? Now, bite him. Be firm, don’t tease anymore - overwhelm him.” 

 

When Greg sinks his teeth into Sherlocks skin,  being able to feel the moan through his lips is spectacular. He sucks a little, before grazing his teeth closed over the spot he’s been working. 

 

“Good. Look at him, he’s squirming for you. Here, now” John points out another point on Sherlocks neck, right at the edge of his shoulder. This time, Sherlock doesn’t just moan.

 

“Oh,  _ Greg _ , please!”

 

Greg laps at the bitemark he’d just left and asks, “please what?”

 

“More, please, I need… I want your mouth on more of me, please. John, please let him!”

 

“Hmm, well, you have been very good so far… Why don’t you undo his shirt, Greg? Slowly, though. We don’t want to rush ourselves.”

 

Greg’s hands are trembling slightly as he starts at Sherlock’s top button. There’s something seductive about going slowly, revealing Sherlock’s chest piece by piece. His chest is heaving slightly as he gulps big breaths in. When he reaches the bottom button, he spreads the shirt wide. 

 

“Good. Now, use your hands on him. I’m sure you want to explore a bit. Sherlock, hands at your sides, be a good boy for Greg, let him touch you.” 

 

Greg doesn’t hesitate. He pushes the shirt off Sherlock’s shoulders and lightly trails his fingers over the spots he and John left. Sherlock’s breath hitches and he twitches lightly as the tender spots are grazed. He trails his fingers down the long column of Sherlock’s neck, watching as Sherlock tips his head back to give him more access, whining softly when he realizes Greg’s touch just keeps going further south. His thumbs press down and feel the sturdy ridges of his collarbones, sliding back and forth over the smooth bone until he decides to investigate further. The pert swell of Sherlock’s pectorals call to him and he smooths his palms over them, the heel of his hand catching over the firm nubs of Sherlock’s erect nipples. 

 

Sherlock gasps at the touch, his hands clenching on the tops of his thighs to keep from touching anything John hadn’t given permission for. 

 

“Is he sensitive?,” Greg asks, curiosity driving him. 

 

John rests his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder, watching. “Why don’t you find out? You can use your hands and mouth.” 

 

Greg’s mouth waters at the prospect of getting more of Sherlock’s skin in his mouth. Sliding his arm around Sherlock’s back to stabilize him, Greg dips his head and latches onto Sherlock’s right nipple. 

 

The effect is instantaneous. 

 

Sherlock rears up, arching his back into Greg’s mouth and a high-pitched whine falls from his mouth. Greg groans in satisfaction, tugging at the little peak of tissue between his teeth before tracing his areola with his tongue. He makes it hot and wet before blowing on it with cool breath, driving Sherlock wild. 

 

“So sensitive,” Greg whispers after releasing the nipple. He kisses it lightly and gives the left nipple the same treatment. Sherlock’s hands fly to his shoulders, digging in with his nails and Greg moans loudly at the delicious pain. But all too soon, those nails are removed and he sighs at their loss. 

 

He looks up to see John wrenching Sherlock’s arms behind his back, holding him firmly. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Sherlock. Naughty boy,” John whispers into Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock visibly shivers and Greg feels his blood grow even hotter. He understands what’s happened. Sherlock touched him without permission. 

 

And John is going to punish him. 

 

“It seems you’re having difficulty keeping your hands to yourself, Sherlock. Let’s make it easier for you”

 

John pulls Sherlock backwards, until he’s standing a stride away from the sofa. He places Sherlocks hands on the small of his back, crossed at the wrists. 

 

“Socks and shoes off. Up on your toes, now.”

 

After he quickly toes off his footwear, Sherlock rises off his heels, and his feet are barely a few inches apart so he has to concentrate to maintain his balance.

 

“Good. Now stay.”

 

John moves towards Greg, and this time he doesn’t stay an arms distance away - he sits down on the sofa, right up against Gregs side. He places a hand on Gregs jaw and leans in, and Greg can feel his breath as he utters his next words “Eyes closed now, Sherlock”. Greg glances over and sees the tortured expression on Sherlock’s face, before he squeezes his eyes closed. Greg’s eyes land back on John just as he leans in and kisses Greg again. He leans up on one knee to get a better angle, and that’s different - John’s height hadn’t stopped him from being very much in charge of their kisses earlier, but him being taller than Greg from this angle adds something, somehow. Greg isn’t sure if the touching rule applies to him so as much as he wants to grab hold of Johns shirt, he resists. 

 

“Mmm, you’re doing well. He can keep his hands to himself without being told, Sherlock. I wonder what he’d do if I let him use them, hm?”

 

Sherlock lets out a half stifled whine. Greg can tell he’s desperate to see, to watch, to touch, to join in. Much like in The Work, it’s clear that Sherlock can’t abide by not being involved in  _ anything _ that catches his interest.

 

John takes Greg’s lower lip between his teeth and speaks right into his mouth. “Go ahead. Free pass to touch, for a little while”. Greg’s hands immediately land on John’s hips which are - god, narrow and inviting - before moving up John’s chest while he has the chance. John is firm under his clothes, his waist a tempting shape leading up to his chest. One hand continues up to his neck, while the other strays down to his arse because Greg’s been dying to get a handful of that for an age. 

 

John groans a little into his mouth and that, and Sherlock whimpers across the room. John pulls back a fraction. “Hmm, do you think he’s stewing enough over there? Do you think he’s learned his lesson?” 

 

Greg didn’t make DI not being able to read people, so he can see the challenge in John’s gaze.

 

“I think he’s probably earned opening his eyes, if you decide he has.”

 

John smiles.

 

“You’re good at this, Greg. We’re going to get along just fine. Sherlock, you heard Greg. He thinks you’ve earned the chance to look. Don’t prove him wrong, now.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes fly open and immediately land on Greg’s hand on John’s arse. His chest heaves, and he presses his tongue into his bottom lip. John turns his attention back to Greg, and moves to kissing down his neck. 

 

“I wouldn’t want things to be  _ too _ unfair… hands off now, Greg.”

 

It takes more strength than Greg would care to admit to comply. To make sure he doesn’t touch, he shoves his hands behind his back and for a second he feels utterly ridiculous. But then John rewards him with attention to his ear and neck that makes it well worth it. John’s hand travels down Greg’s chest before he pulls back and stands up. He walks to stand behind Sherlock, speaking into his ear. 

 

“Look at him, Sherlock. I think I’d like his top off next - would you like to be the one taking it off?”

 

“Oh, yes, please.”

 

“Well, only good boys get a prize like that. And he is a prize, isn’t he? Look how aroused he is, how willing. Do you think you can behave?”

 

“Yes, John I will, I promise, please!”

 

John smiles at Greg over Sherlock’s shoulder.

 

“Well, Greg, it would seem he’s been reminded of why it’s worth behaving… but I’m still not sure he’ll manage. What do you say you help him, hmm?”

 

Greg thinks about it. He’s not quite sure what game John’s playing but he can tell that Sherlock still isn’t off the hook. He’s determined to showcase Sherlock’s submission and entice Greg to not only play along in toying with him but to submit to John as well. Playing it slightly safe, Greg’s arms remain behind his back and he simply says, “I’ll help in any way you suggest.” 

 

And  _ oh _ , Greg can see the way that John’s eye positively glint with intention from his words. John kisses Sherlock’s neck affectionately and says, “he’s such a quick study, isn’t he?” Sherlock, knowing better than to answer the rhetorical question, stays silent. “Okay Sherlock, you can stand flat on your feet again.” Gratefully, Sherlock sags fully onto his feet with a sigh of relief. Without glancing his way, continuing to lavish attention on Sherlock’s neck, John says, “Greg. I want you to take off your belt.” 

 

“Yes, John,” Greg finds himself replying. The speed at which the response comes, without ever being prompted, is surprising and unnerving in equal measure. John’s got him heading towards subspace already and he didn’t even have to push too hard. But he pushes that thought aside, wanting to see where this goes. His belt slides smoothly through the loops and then it’s laying in his hands. He hasn’t been told what to do with it yet and he suppresses the urge to fidget with the uncertainty. 

 

“Good,” John purrs, nipping gently at Sherlock’s shoulder. “Now bring it here to me.” 

 

When he stands, his pants sag ever so slightly, reminding him that he’s now lost a measure of security. Without his belt it would be so easy to remove his trousers, to shove them down and aside. That thought travels in a zing down his spine and straight to his eager prick. He holds it out to John and John takes it without looking at him or touching him. 

 

He finds himself yearning for John’s touch more than anything. 

 

“Thank you, Greg,” John tells him. “Now, Sherlock won’t be able to use his hands for the next several minutes, otherwise I’d ask him to do this next bit. I want you to take our tea dishes and put them in the sink for me, I’ll deal with them later. Then come right back here.” 

 

“Yes, John.” It takes only a minute for Greg to place everything back on the tea tray and deposit it in the kitchen. He takes care to gently place their used cups in the sink as requested. Then he’s standing in his previous position between John and Sherlock and the couch. 

 

“Very good,” John says and Greg can feel himself brimming with the praise. It feels so silly yet so satisfying to be praised for such a small thing but he can’t be arsed to care. “Now, lay on the coffee table for me, please. On your back.”

 

Greg does so without question, watching as both John’s and Sherlock’s gaze follow him as he gets comfortable. It’s slightly awkward; he’s taller than the table so his knees bend to keep his feet flat on the floor. When he’s settled, he turns his head and notices that the belt is missing from John’s hand. 

 

John sees his question in his eyes and he tells Sherlock, “Sherlock, show Greg what we’ve done with his belt.” Sherlock turns and shows that his arms have been effectively restrained behind his back, the leather of Greg’s belt holding him in place. The dark leather is beautiful against Sherlock’s pale skin.

 

Greg sucks in a breath, his cock twitching excitedly in his trousers. 

 

John has Sherlock turn back around to face Greg and for a brief moment, their eyes meet. Sympathy and understanding register in each other. They’re both getting off on this, pleasing John and being his playthings. It’s intoxicating, arousing, and Greg can’t wait for the next command. 

 

“Okay Sherlock, think you can behave yourself now? Think you can wait until I tell you it’s okay to touch?” 

 

“Yes, John! Oh yes!” 

 

“Good. On your knees.” Sherlock gracefully sinks to his knees and Greg bites his lip as his brain supplies him with every single image he’d ever had of Sherlock on his knees at once. The reality is far superior than anything he’d pictured. “Now, since you asked so nicely before, I’m going to let you take Greg’s shirt off.” 

 

Sherlock’s head turns to gaze up at John in confusion. His arms flex instinctively against his binds and he asks, “John?” 

 

John’s smile is wicked. He gently taps Sherlock’s forehead and says, “you’ve got a lovely brain in there. What’s the one tool of yours that I will never take away?” Sherlock’s eyes widen in realization. Greg is still a half step behind. 

 

But then Sherlock carefully hovers over Greg and it takes everything in Greg’s power to clench his hands at his sides. He holds his breath, brain slowly registering that Sherlock’s mouthing at his chest. It’s hot, it’s wet, then he feels Sherlock’s teeth take hold of the fabric of his shirt and the damp skin beneath becomes exposed. 

 

Everything becomes shockingly clear. Sherlock Holmes is going to remove his shirt, just like John said he would. But he’s going to do it with his teeth. It’s every dirty fantasy he’s never let himself dwell on at once, and it’s a good thing he’s got John to guide him, because he’s not sure he’d be able to proceed in any coherent manner otherwise.

 

“Hold still for him, Greg. There you go. Look at that, you’re both doing so well for me. The picture you make together…”

 

Sherlock’s eyes close briefly before refocusing on the task in front of him. He’s dextrous with his mouth -  _ oh, christ - _ but he’s focused solely on Greg’s shirt. He’s following Johns lead, and John hasn’t said to pay attention to Gregs chest, so he isn’t. Greg can feel his mouth, though - feel the heat of his breath against his skin, the scrape of his teeth trying to work his buttons free. As Sherlock gets to the buttons close to his navel, the sense memory of that mouth sucking him off earlier ramps up his arousal another notch. He can’t help but lift his hips slightly, chasing the warmth of Sherlock mouth as he pulls away. 

 

“Nuh uh, Greg. You’ve been doing so well, don’t misbehave now.”

 

Greg takes a deep breath and tries to reign himself in. As...tempting, as the thoughts of John’s corrections are, he wants to be in his good books for what’s to come. After what feels like an eternity - but probably no more than ten minutes - all of Greg’s buttons are undone and his shirt is parted to reveal a long line of flesh. 

 

“Lift your hands so he can do your cuffs,” John prompts. Greg follows his instruction and sucks in a sharp breath when Sherlock’s warm breath breezes across his wrist. He almost bites back a whine but, remembering John’s demonstration from before, he lets it loose. Sherlock’s eyes flutter shut and he responds with one of his own. The whole act of removing Greg’s shirt has become one speeding loop of pleasurable feedback and it’s driving Greg round the bend. 

 

When his cuffs are loosened, John lets him shrug the shirt off for all to see. 

 

“You did well, Sherlock. Don’t you agree, Greg?”

 

“Yes, John” Greg’s responses are automatic, not requiring thought. John’s word is everything - if John says he did well, he did well. 

 

“I think he’d like to hear it from you.”

 

Greg looks to Sherlock, and there’s eagerness in that gaze. A desire for approval. It’s heady, to be the one it’s directed at.

 

“You did well, Sherlock.” Sherlock trembles a little at that, and it gives Greg the push to continue “Good boy.”

 

The breath Sherlock takes at that is shaky, and his eyelids flutter as he basks in it. 

 

“I think you’ve earned a reward, Sherlock. You can explore him, if you want. But, it really wouldn’t be fair if only one of you had your hands…” John rounds the table, and kneels by Greg’s head. “Hands up here for me, Greg”

 

When Greg raises his arms, John takes hold of his wrists and holds them behind his head. 

 

“Give me a colour, Greg”

 

“Oh, green… green”

 

Sherlock’s mouth descends to his collarbone, and his tongue sweeps around his suprasternal notch. Sherlock’s mouth is a pleasure and a tease all in one - and Greg’s breath heaves, his fists clench, and he struggles not to squirm. 

 

“Shh, Greg. Relax. Let it happen. None of us are going anywhere - I’ve got you, and Sherlock won’t go anywhere unless I tell him. Deep breaths. In. Hold. Out. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes, John!”

 

“I promise you’ll enjoy the rest even more. I have so many ideas for you both. I’m sure you’ve got your own. What do you want?”

 

_ God,  _ what doesn’t he want? The fantasies are little harder to pull into speech than they were earlier. Sherlock’s mouth is moving in time with the cadence of John’s speech, and John’s voice is a warm rumble in his ear, his hands a strong, steady pressure around his wrists. At first, the words come slowly, but they come easier with every breath until he’s barely pausing for thought. 

 

“I want… I want you to direct Sherlock how to touch me. I want you to tell me how to make him feel good, use me to dominate him so I can pleasure him and obey you at the same time. I want to be between you, I want Sherlock between us, I want both Sherlock and me to pleasure you however you say. I want anything and everything you’ll allow.”

 

Sherlock moans into his belly, where he was examining the skin just below his ribs. His teeth making teasing nips on the slope of his belly making it quiver. His hips twitch fractionally as his cock continually reminds him that he is  _ hot, hard, needy, ready,  _ **_wanting_ ** . He feels John chuckle against his ear, low and dangerous and Greg’s sure he’ll combust if John doesn’t let him expel some of his energy. 

 

“Is that so?” John’s teeth graze his earlobe and Greg squirms under the dual sensations of two sets of lips setting his nerves on fire. “Well, seeing as you’re a guest in this house, it would be awful rude of me to deny such simple requests. Sherlock, eyes front.”

 

Sherlock immediately stops his attention to Greg and sits up, eyes on John. Greg can’t help but keen at the loss of contact. 

 

“Now, I want the both of you to stand up. Sherlock, would you be a dear and lead Greg to our room?” 

 

“Yes, John.” Sherlock stands, carefully balancing without the use of his hands, and Greg follows him down the hall to their bedroom. Greg is very aware of John’s eyes on them, taking in their naked backs, their backsides, and he can practically hear the gears turning in John’s mind as he plans out their next little game. 

 

Once they’re all inside the very neat and tidy bedroom, John directs Greg to sit on their bed. Then John lovingly undoes the belt around Sherlock’s arms. When they’re free he comes around to kiss each wrist and rub away any lingering soreness from their brief imprisonment. “Alright, time to make ourselves more comfortable. Sherlock, please remove Greg’s shoes, socks, and trousers. Leave his pants on. Do not touch his cock. Then you may remove the rest of your clothes.” 

 

Sherlock is quick to comply. He falls to his knees to untie Greg’s shoes. Greg watches in rapt attention as Sherlock slides the shoes off his feet then tucks his socks inside for safekeeping. He lays those next to their nightstand and then slowly slides his hands up Greg’s legs towards his hips. He looks up at Greg with a mock-innocent expression and asks, “may I?”

 

Greg nods, “yes.” Sherlock’s fingers are swift and sure as he undoes Greg’s fly and Greg helpfully lifts his hips so his trousers can be pulled down. Sherlock is about to toss them somewhere when John’s firm “ahem” serves as a reminder to be more respectful of other people’s belongings. He quickly folds them and lays them on the back of a chair before stripping his own trousers and pants and dropping them in a nearby hamper. 

 

Seeing him fully naked is like watching a marble statue come to life. His long, lean limbs, his sculpted calves and arse a wonder. His cock is long and slender, not unlike the man himself. His fingers twitch, wanting another chance to explore. 

 

John’s voice disturbs Greg’s ogling. “Good boy.” 

 

They both turn to him, smalls gasps escaping them. While Sherlock had been completing his task, and Greg had been watching Sherlock, John had taken the time to remove several articles of clothing. Where a jumper and button down once were, he now stood before them in a plain white vest and jeans. A quick look south revealed not only that he’d also somewhere along the way lost his shoes, but an impressively, delightfully large bulge is present in his jeans where his erection tents the fabric. 

 

Greg’s mouth waters. He wants to see more and he hopes to whichever gods were listening at the moment that he’d get the opportunity to see John Watson naked. 

 

“Sherlock, stand at the foot of the bed, assume the position.” Sherlock moves swiftly without comment. He quickly spreads his feet shoulder-width apart and braces himself on his hands. Greg watches, mouth dropping slightly open, wondering what he must look like from behind. Sherlock catches his eyes and he can see the lust burning in his eyes, he can see the readiness for the fun to really start. 

 

John comes to stand behind Sherlock, his hand coming to smooth over the globes of his arse. Sherlock preens at the touch, back arching slightly to make a more attractive picture. He looks up to find John smirking at him. “Come stand beside me, Greg. I have something to show you.” 

 

Greg’s legs aren’t steady as he crosses the room. He stops at John’s side, and takes a breath before turning to face the bed. Sherlock’s spine is a sensuous curve, leading down to dimples either side of the small of his back. His eyes don’t stray much further before all the air leaves his in one breath. 

 

“He’s been wearing that all day. It’s one of the reasons he was so...ornery...today. It’s been moving around inside him, pleasuring him every time he moves.”

 

“Oh, my god...”

 

John reaches out a hand and gently rocks the flat, matte black end of the butt plug. Sherlock moans a little, his head dropping below his shoulders as he breathes into it. 

 

“It’s been driving us both a little nuts all day. Every time he moves, stands up, crouches over evidence - he has to take a breath so as not to give the game away. His face, though - I’m amazed no one clocked it. Watching him like that - the great Sherlock Holmes, walking around trying not to come in his pants because he’s wearing a plug that I put inside him.” John’s fingers move on the plug again, this time rotating it in Sherlocks arse. The moan this prompts is drawn out and guttural. That  _ voice. _ “There were times I wanted to call it all off and fuck him right there on the floor. Bend him over the nearest thing and fuck him until he’s begging me to let him come. He’s been leaking on his boxers all day from the prostate stimulation - not quite a milking, but I’m surprised it didn’t show through his trousers.” 

 

Greg’s breath is unsteady. John’s words are better than the brief fantasies he’s allowed himself, and he’d been  _ right there _ when it was happening.

 

"He’s so good for me, though. You know, even when we first started this thing, Sherlock never came without permission. Not once.”  John steps closer, his chest pressing into Greg’s shoulder blade. “I wonder if he'll be as good for you."

 

God, to get his hands on Sherlock. There’s been a lot of him being touched so far and, while it was fucking excellent, his hands are itching to touch, to bring forth more of the noises he’s heard so far himself. 

 

“Why don’t we see?” 

 

John steps back, places his hands on his hips. “Sherlock, you know the rules. You are not to come until I explicitly say so.” He turns a wicked smile on Greg. “Why don’t you see if you can make him break the rules, Greg? If you manage to get him off before I say he can, I’ll let you help punish him. His arse looks gorgeous marked by a crop”

 

“What about if he doesn’t? What happens if he’s a good boy?” Greg can see Sherlock shiver just at hearing the words, at the mere suggestion that he’s been a good boy.  _ God _ , he wants to just lay hands on him already but John hasn’t said he can begin yet and  _ he _ wants to be good, too. 

 

John comes to stand close to him,  _ so close _ , almost touching, and whispers in his ear, “If he manages to be good for me, then  _ I’ll _ reward the both of you.” 

 

Greg’s not sure if he wants to succeed or not. He manages to nod. 

 

“Why don’t you start simple? Have a feel of his arse, of the plug. It’s one of my favorites” 

 

Greg steps closer to Sherlock, and tentatively lays a hand on Sherlock’s ass. Laid out as he is, Greg can feel the lean muscle stretched taut. His fingers move over warm skin, slipping inevitably inwards. His forefinger trails around Sherlock’s rim around the edge of the plug, feels it flutter slightly under his touch. He rocks the base slightly, feeling the weight of it. The stretch of Sherlock’s skin around the base is an incredible sight and he  _ wants _ \- 

 

“May I touch him more?”

 

John’s tone is approving. “Yes, you may”

 

“Is… is he... clean?”

 

John cocks an approving eyebrow. “Always.”

 

Greg falls to his knees, and moves closer. He pauses, allows Sherlock to feel his breath before replacing his finger with his tongue. He feels the stretch of the muscle before moving down, over Sherlocks perineum, over his balls. He uses a hand to roll them, and presses them closer to his mouth and hums against them. He moves back up, presses kisses around the base of the plug. 

 

“I think he’s earned a break. Why don’t you slide that plug out.”

 

Greg complies, sliding the plug out inch by inch. Sherlock is shaking, groaning as the widest part of the plug stretches him wide. It’s awkward, but Greg can’t help putting his mouth there to feel it. 

 

When the plug is out, Sherlock’s hole grasps greedily at the air, stretched wide from the extended period the plug has been in place. 

 

“There’s tissue in the nightstand, take some and wrap the plug in it. Put it on top of the nightstand for now”

 

Greg obeys without even thinking about it. He barely notices the creak of his knees as he stands. 

 

“Sherlock, up on the bed now. Kneel in the centre - Greg will move you where he wants you.”

 

Greg follows Sherlock onto the bed, kneeling behind him. His hands automatically part Sherlock’s cheeks to get another look at Sherlock’s gaping, reddened hole. He watches as it flutters, empty after being so full for so long. He leans forward, licking away at the glistening muscle, desperate for a taste. Sherlock’s legs quiver beneath him as he pushes back against him. 

 

He feels John lay a hand atop his head and he groans in satisfaction. “Look at you, Greg,” John says, voice low and husky. “Sherlock, love, is he making you feel good?” 

 

“Oh  _ God, _ yes!”

 

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” John says, laughter in his voice. He squats next to the bed to peek at Sherlock’s cock as it hangs hard and heavy beneath him. “Oh my, look at how red your cock is. Look how it drips for me. You’ve been leaking all day for me, for us, it’s amazing there’s anything left inside you.”

 

Sherlock practically sobs in acknowledgement. 

 

John asks him, full of mock-concern, “what’s the matter, Sherlock?” 

 

Sherlock shakes his head, “n-nothing, John.” 

 

“Are you sure? You look like you need something.” 

 

Greg, wanting to join in, stops his ministrations and says, “answer him. I won’t start again until you do.” Sherlock whines in sexual frustration and Greg hopes he hasn’t overstepped but his doubts are cast aside when he gets an approving grin from John. 

 

Sherlock bites his lip and looks pleadingly at John. “You, talking about my cock,” Sherlock’s face reddens in embarrassment and Greg marvels at it. He can’t believe that Sherlock would ever be embarrassed about anything. “You’re talking about it and I’ve been so hard all day and I want you to touch me but I don’t want to come without permission-” 

 

“Shh,” John soothes, running his hand through Sherlock’s curls to calm him. “It’s alright. You want us to touch your cock?” 

 

“Yes please,” Sherlock asks, desperately. 

 

John kisses him softly, gently, and says, “thank you for asking nicely. I’m proud of you for asking for what you need.” Sherlock sags in relief and John looks to Greg, silently telling him to proceed. 

 

Greg tells Sherlock to roll over onto his back. Sherlock is trembling with overstimulation and Greg can’t help but slide his hands up those creamy thighs. He softly kisses his way up Sherlock’s right leg until he reaches his pelvis. Then he looks to John and asks, “may I touch Sherlock’s cock?” 

 

John nods. “You may.” 

 

Greg’s hand lightly curls around the turgid flesh and Sherlock cries out at his touch. Immediately, his hand flies down to grip the base of his cock, preventing himself from coming. His eyes are clenched tight and he’s breathing hard now, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’d just run a marathon.

 

John asks with a knowing smile, “were you a little close there?”

 

Sherlock nods frantically. “Yes, John.” 

 

“But you stopped yourself. Good boy.” John leans over and kisses his temple affectionately. 

 

Greg doesn’t dare move, not wanting their game to be over yet. Finally, Sherlock relaxes and he removes his hand. Slowly so as not to ramp him up again too quickly, Greg’s hand slides up Sherlock’s cock.  _ He’s  _ **_so_ ** _ wet!  _ his mind screams at him. He watches intently as his hand smears through the slick Sherlock’s leaked, palm sliding up and over the head of his cock. Sherlock whines, hips thrusting up to seek more coverage, more friction. He keeps up his strokes, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, making Sherlock moan and cry out. 

 

He can’t help but think, not for the first time, that he’s beautiful like this. 

 

His mouth waters, wanting a taste of that salty liquid seeping from his slit. He licks his lips and turns to John, “I want to taste him.” 

 

John grins. “He does taste wonderful.” 

 

Greg knows he’s going to have to ask. John won’t ever just give something to him without a catch. He knows this. He squirms internally, caught between asking and taking. What would happen if he didn’t ask permission? Would John end their fun or would he have Sherlock punish Greg? He bites his lip,  _ better save that train of thought for another time. _

 

His hand pauses on Sherlock. He gives John his most innocent face and asks, “may I?” 

 

John trails his finger through the slick at Sherlock’s head and holds it out in front of Greg’s lips. Greg’s eyes dart between the finger and John’s face. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg can tell Sherlock’s looking at the two of them, suddenly much more interested in what’s going on between them than what’s going on with his cock. 

 

“Well?” John asks. “You wanted a taste. I’m giving it to you.” John’s eyes burn in amusement. “If you want it, lick it from my finger.” 

 

Greg knows where his mistake was. He asked for a taste, not to suck Sherlock’s cock, though it was clear that’s what he wanted. John wanted him to be explicit. But he knows that he can’t ask again until he’s taken what’s offered, John will be displeased. 

 

Greg vows to do better as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth, his tongue lapping at John’s finger. His lips close around it and he sucks, hearing John’s intake of breath at the sensation. John’s gasp makes him bold and he swirls his tongue around the finger in his mouth, making sure every trace of Sherlock’s slick has been cleaned away.

 

He opens his eyes to find John staring at him hungrily. He releases John’s finger with a small “pop” and licks his lips free of lingering saliva. Then he asks meekly, “I want more, John. May I suck Sherlock’s cock? Please?” 

 

John’s silent for a moment and Greg is afraid he’ll refuse. But then he says, “I’m not sure if Sherlock’s ready for your mouth yet.” Sherlock, wanting to protest but knowing better, just whines, hoping John will let Greg suck him. “I want to see how you’d suck his cock, first. I want to see if you’ll please my boy.” 

 

John stands and undoes his fly. Greg’s eyes widen in surprise and all consuming need. John’s cock is  _ thick _ . Slightly above average length but so thick that he wonders how he’ll get it all in his mouth. He will certainly try. Automatically he leans forward, mouth watering, but John stops him. 

 

“But,” John warns, “you must keep stroking Sherlock. Remember, you’re supposed to be getting him to break his rule. If you stop then you’ll be in big trouble, Greg.” 

 

Greg shivers at the challenge and nods. “I understand, John.” 

 

“Feel free to watch, Sherlock. I want you to see what Greg does. I might even let him do it to you. If he’s good enough.” 

 

“John,” Sherlock gasps, hips twitching, reminding Greg to start stroking him again so they can all get what they want. 

 

The moment Greg’s hand begins to move once more, John smiles at him. Then he holds his cock steady and tells Greg, “come on then. Suck my cock.” 

 

Greg looks up at John as he lowers his mouth, trying to draw it out whilst simultaneously doing as he’s told. He meets John’s cock with his tongue first, before stretching - and it really does feel like a stretch - his lips around the head. It’s a challenge to keep his eye on John, his hand moving on Sherlock and focus on John’s cock in his mouth, but  _ boy, it’s worth it _ . He luxuriates in the feel of John’s cock, the way it fills his mouth. He moves his tongue around, presses John’s cock up against the roof of his mouth as he slips more in.

 

A hand fists in his hair. “I said,  _ suck _ . If I want you to tease, I’ll tell you so. Now,  _ do as you are told. _ ” A gentle pressure on the back of his head encourages him forward. It’s not forcing him onto John’s cock, instead serving as a reminder of John’s will. He can choose to resist.

 

He doesn’t want to. 

 

He eases forward, trying to fit as much as he can without gagging. He wants to use his other hand to cover the length he can’t fit in his mouth, but he’s not been told to do that. He tries to maintain a good rhythm on Sherlocks cock, and ends up synchronising his movements - as he bobs down, so does his hand. He applies some gentle suction, rolling his tongue over John’s fraenulum. 

 

John’s hand moves to cradle his jaw, and Greg angles his head, allows the head of John’s cock to push his cheek out as he slides his lips down on it. John’s thumb twitches slightly as he feels his own cock through the side of Greg’s mouth.

 

“That’s… stunning. You can be such a good boy when you behave, Greg.” 

 

Sherlock’s hips stutter under his hand. For a moment Greg wishes his mouth was bigger, because he wants both of them in his mouth at once. He flutters his grip, moves up and rolls his fingers over the crown. He’s aware of Sherlock’s voice, which had been at a low rumble since he’d first applied his mouth to John, forming words rather than noises. 

 

“John… John, he’s being good for you, isn’t he? I want, I want to please you both. Let me pleasure him while he does the same for you. Would you let me, John?”

 

John eyes him speculatively, before seizing Greg’s hair and pulling him off. He moves to straddle Sherlocks thighs. 

 

“Come up here, Greg. Take off your pants and kneel above Sherlock’s head, facing me”

 

Once he’s removed his last article of clothing, Greg looks down at Sherlock as he situates himself over him. He takes in the tongue sweeping over Sherlock’s tempting lower lip, wanting to chase it. John’s hand cradles his head again as he guides his mouth back onto John’s cock. His hand had barely left Sherlock while he was moving, and the angle gives him better purchase. He just gets back into a rhythm when he feels clever fingers sweep over his cock, guiding it down to a tongue that sweeps over the head. He moans around John’s cock. John seems to enjoy the vibration, and lets out an open mouthed groan. Greg’s eyes had slid closed when Sherlock applied his mouth, but they open now. John is staring down at them, his eyes flicking between Greg and what he can see of Sherlock. Greg is overwhelmed - he’s got one cock in his mouth and another in his hands, while he’s being blown by the man that’s been plaguing his fantasies for years. He’s not quite sure how on earth he got here. 

 

As he looks up at John, he can feel a calm settle over him - he doesn’t need to wonder at how he got here, or what is going to happen next. John is the one guiding him tonight. All he needs to worry about is doing as he’s told, and it’s blissful. John’s cock is hot and hard in his mouth, stretching his lips wide as they move over him. John’s hand rests on his head and it’s a reassuring, guiding weight. 

 

“Look at you both. You’re both so good for me. Greg, I think I’m satisfied you’d do well for Sherlock - why don’t you see if your mouth will tempt him to come for you?” 

 

Greg pulls off one cock, to duck down and slide his mouth onto another. He’s got a taste for sucking someone off this evening, and he’s got no patience for a tease. He moves down as far as he can go without gagging, and sets about doing his best to pull that exceptional brain out through Sherlocks cock.

 

Going by the vibrations around his own erection, it goes over well. He’s not been told he can’t carry on with his hand, so he uses it in time with his mouth, covering whatever length he can’t fit in. He’s aware of the bed moving as John moves away. His hand moves down, rolls Sherlock’s balls in his hand. His fingers slip lower, finding the twitching hole he’d left empty earlier, and figures it’s in line with his task to provide some comfort and fill it again. He can get two in with no trouble, and this time the moan around his cock is elongated and christ, he needs to worry about coming without permission himself. 

 

The warm, slick velvet of Sherlock’s hole grips Greg’s fingers and makes him shudder with want. After a brief reprieve, the muscles of Sherlock’s channels have started to tighten once more and greedily swallow his fingers while he plunges them in and out. He crooks his finger and is rewarded when he finds what he’s looking for. The second he brushes Sherlock’s prostate Sherlock screams, his mouth muffled by Greg’s cock in his mouth and his nails digging into the meat of Greg’s arse. The vibration, the squeeze, the small burst of pain, it all makes him answer back with a long moan of his own. His balls tighten and he knows it won’t be long until he’s coming again. He pulls off Sherlock’s cock with a gasp, sucking air into his lungs. 

 

“I’m so close,” he rasps, head hanging as he catches his breath. 

 

“Sherlock, stop moving, just hold him in your mouth, love,” John tells him. Then he crouching down to look Greg in the eye. “Do you want to come again, Greg?” 

 

The answer is simple. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll offer you a choice,” John says. “You can either come right here, right now, in Sherlock’s mouth again. Or,” John pauses, drawing out their tension, “you can fuck him until you come.” 

 

Both he and Sherlock moan at the idea. 

 

“Would you like that Sherlock? Would you like Greg to fuck you, fill you with his come? You can use your words.” 

 

Greg hisses at the sudden chill as his cock is released from Sherlock’s mouth. “I want that, John. I want Greg to fuck me, want you to watch. Please?” 

 

Greg starts to shift but feels John’s warm palm on his back, stilling him. His eyes are still on Sherlock and being literally in the middle of them makes Greg vibrate with tension. While he waits patiently for his next instruction, he lets his mind drift back to his role in all this. He never thought he’d like to be a toy as much as he is, never thought he’d love being told what to do, how to do it, when to do it, but it’s exhilarating. John’s voice brings him back to the present. 

 

“Of course, love. And since you’ve done so well for me I’m going to let you come.” 

 

“Thank you,” Sherlock rapidly replies.

 

“But you are to come on Greg’s cock.  _ Only _ Greg’s cock. And as always you must ask permission.” 

 

“Yes yes! I will, thank you!” 

 

The hand from Greg’s back leaves and he’s allowed to move. His eyes rove over Sherlock’s waiting form as he considers how best to take him. On his back, where he could press down into Sherlock, rubbing his cock against his chest, his face and teeth buried in Sherlock’s neck. On his knees, spreading his cheeks wide to watch himself disappear into his body over and over again. He could have him sit in his lap and bounce him, watch those curls bounce and feel Sherlock’s nails dig into his shoulder as he tries to steady himself. Any and all possibilities would feel amazing. But he also knows that everything they do is to please John. He looks to John for instruction and asks, “how would you like me to fuck him? What would please you most?”  

 

John’s eyes glint and Greg knows he’s made the right choice. A slow, pleased smile spreads across John’s face making Greg shiver. 

 

“I want him just as he is. On his back, where I can see both your faces. I want to see what you do to each other.” Greg watches as John reaches into their nightstand to produce a bottle of lube. Their eyes meet as John opens the bottle, the snick loud of the cap making his blood pump. John pours a healthy dollop onto his palm, smearing it against his fingers to warm it, and Greg knows for certain that John will touch him. 

 

His breath leaves him in one sharp exhale, his mouth drops open and his head falls back as John cups him in his wet hand. The smear is tantalizing, a promise of what’s to come. John begins to stroke him, spreading the lube evenly, and leans in to speak against his ear. “When you come, I want you to ask permission. I want you to know that your pleasure is at  _ my _ discretion.” He pauses his hand and pulls back and says, “but only if you want that as well. I need a color from you.”  

 

“Christ, green. Please, god”

 

John presses a kiss into his hair. John’s hand leaves him, and if he didn’t know what was coming he would have mourned the loss more strongly. The cap of the lubricant clicks again, and then John’s  hand enters his field of vision and slide teasingly around Sherlock’s hole before slipping in. Seeing John’s strong hands twisting, rubbing inside Sherlock after knowing first hand what that feels like is enthralling. He couldn’t tear his eyes away if he wanted to. 

 

“Can I...May I help, John?”

 

“You may.”

 

John’s hand rotates, gives a little room for Greg to slide a hand down and get a finger alongside Johns. The feeling of his finger alongside John’s in that smooth, fluttering heat is something he’ll never forget. The noises Sherlock is making reflect exactly how he feels about it. 

 

“I think he’s ready. Greg, up you get. Kneel at his feet, for now.”

 

As Greg moves, John fetches a pillow from the top of the bed and slips it under Sherlocks hips. When it’s in place, he cards a hand through Sherlocks hair and presses a kiss into his forehead. Greg almost feels like he’s intruding as he watches a small, content smile cross Sherlock’s face. They both turn to look at him in almost perfect sync, and the feeling dissipates. John moves and guides Greg forwards with a hand on the back of his neck. 

 

“Now, you’ve done a great job of pleasuring my boy so far, Greg. You know what I’ve permitted him - he’s allowed to come, but not allowed to have anyone touch his cock. It’s up to you to make that happen.”

 

_ No pressure, then,  _ he thinks wryly. John’s hand is pulling him ever forward, until he’s on all fours over Sherlock, who is looking at him with such an expression of lust that Greg doesn’t think he’s going to be able to look him in the eye at a crime scene ever again. Those ridiculous lips are open as he pants a little, his eyes half closed but staring up at him under his lashes. John’s hand leaves him, and he settles next to them both.  

 

“Take hold of yourself and push inside him now, Greg. Slide in all the way, and hold there”

 

Greg lines up, and luxuriates in the feeling of Sherlock stretching around the head of his cock. The slick, clutching heat is divine, and he has to concentrate to restrain himself from immediately thrusting himself to his own completion. He can’t help but look down to where they’re connected, at Sherlock stretching around them. Once he’s balls deep inside Sherlock Holmes - jesus, what a concept - he looks up to John. John’s eyes are looking just where Greg’s were, before they trace over the rest of their bodies - Sherlock’s legs wrapped around Greg’s waist, Greg’s back and most definitely his arse, Sherlock’s chest as it heaves with the deep breaths he’s taking. 

 

“Don’t the pair of you make a picture.” He leans forward as he speaks, running a finger down the centre of Sherlocks chest. Sherlock’s abdomen quivers as they slip over the hair leading down from his navel, skimming sideways so as to avoid any accidental contact with Sherlock’s cock. It slips over the muscles in Sherlock’s groin, down and back and oh, christ, he’s - he’s touching where they’re joined, he’s running his fingertips over Sherlock’s rim, over the very base of Greg’s cock that’s not inside Sherlock. 

 

“One slow slide out now, Greg. Leave just the head inside.” And his fingers  _ stay there _ , feeling Greg slide out. They dance over the sensitive underside of Greg’s cock, and it twitches inside Sherlock. 

 

John’s voice is full of awe as he speaks. “Divine. Start with a slow rhythm now, Greg. Let him feel it.”

 

And Sherlock’s eyelids flutter when he does that. Being allowed to see his face while Greg is fucking him is a blessing and a punishment, because Sherlock is like something out of the most artistic porno ever created - and Greg has no idea how he’s going to stop himself from coming after a few short minutes. 

 

“How does he feel, Greg?”

 

How does he find words for that?

 

“He’s… hot. Tight. Slick. He’s quivering around me slightly. It’s fucking incredible” 

 

John’s eyes are on Sherlock as Greg answers, and Sherlock’s whimper demonstrates why. John’s not asking the question because he’s interested - although he probably is- he’s asking because Sherlock likes hearing the answer. Apparently, the compliments thing extends to the bedroom. 

 

“And what’s that like for you, Greg? Does he feel good for you?”

 

Sherlock’s eyes had been focused on John when he’s speaking, but they dart instantly to Greg once John’s asked the question. There’s a mix of anticipation and desperation in them, and it spurs Greg on.

 

“It’s so good - he feels so good around me, he’s perfect and he makes me want to come right up inside him.” 

 

The moan Sherlock emits rumbles so deeply Greg can feel it through his cock.  _ God _ , Sherlock’s voice should be illegal - he needs a recording of that noise to listen to whenever he wants because that alone would be wanking material for months. Sherlock’s erection twitches up against his stomach, smearing more fluid against his skin. 

 

“Add a little speed, now. Try rocking your hips up a little as you push in - slide the head of your cock along the front wall of him. You like that, don’t you, baby?”

 

“Y...yes, John.”

 

Sherlock’s voice isn’t steady, and it’s sinfully low. He’s moaning a little with each thrust, now - little punches of noise being pushed out of his throat by Greg’s hips. 

 

“Well done, Greg. You’re doing such a good job - look how he’s enjoying it.” The pleasure at hearing John’s praise pools in Greg’s chest and stokes the fire in his belly. 

 

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Greg. Fuck him until he’s begging me to let him come.” 

 

Greg grits his teeth, thankful that he’s finally been given permission to obey his desire to really  _ fuck _ Sherlock. “Yes,  _ ahh- _ fuck, thank you!” Wanting better leverage, Greg’s hands come underneath Sherlock to grip his hips. His hands grip him tightly, holding him in place while he slams into Sherlock over and over again. 

 

Sherlock is openly wailing and crying out now, his words going from sharp and clear to incomprehensible moans. “Oh fuck! Greg, Greg, Greg -  _ ahh!”  _ His hands scrabble for purchase, with one taking root in the sheet and the other a vice-like grip on the headboard. 

 

The sounds he makes are driving Greg near mad with satisfaction and pride. His orgasm is speeding towards him, unstoppable and he wants so badly to see Sherlock come apart after all this build up. He wants nothing more than to help him along so that maybe, just maybe, they can come together. He wants to take Sherlock’s throbbing cock in his hands and stroke it until he coats both of them with his release. 

 

But he won’t disobey John. 

 

Instead, he leans forward, careful not to touch Sherlock’s prick and grinds his hips hard into Sherlock. He growls in his ear, “come for me, you gorgeous creature. I want to see you, want to see what I’ve done to you, I want John to see. Can you do that for me, for us?”

 

“John! John, I need-” Sherlock babbles, practically sobbing.

 

John is right there to cater to him. “Tell me what you need.” 

 

“You,  _ God,  _ I need you!” 

 

John smiles indulgently. “Of course. Ease up a bit, Greg. I have an idea.” 

 

Greg pulls out and together they maneuver Sherlock so that his back is being braced by John’s chest. Kneeling behind him to give him an incline, his arms come around Sherlock to hold him as Greg grips his hips once more. Sherlock’s legs are pliable and they loosely come to drape over Greg’s hips. Greg shuffles forward, ready to plunge into him once more. 

 

“Are you ready to come, Sherlock,” Greg asks teasingly. 

 

“Yes! God, yes! Please, fuck me Greg!”

 

“Better hang on then,” is the only warning Greg gives before he’s sliding in one quick slide. Sherlock’s hands immediately come up to clutch at whatever part of John he can reach, howling in pleasure as Greg does his best to hit Sherlock’s prostate with every thrust. 

 

“There you are, sweetheart,” John coos in his ear, licking at the curve of it. “Let go for us, let us see you, you’ve been so good, let Greg give this to you. Come for us.” 

 

“John! Greg! John! Fuck!  _ Ahh- _ fuck! Please, can I come?!” 

 

“You may,” John grants and that’s all it takes.

 

Sherlock’s orgasm rips through him and it leaves Greg breathless. His body clenches so hard it almost triggers Greg’s orgasm. Greg struggles to keep his eyes open, to watch Sherlock paint his own chest with his semen, watch his face contort in ecstasy. Sherlock is a thing of wonder as he climaxes, mouth open in a silent scream that ends with ragged breath as he finally sags against John in long awaited relief. 

 

Now that Sherlock has come, Greg is desperate for his own release. 

 

Frantically he asks, “John, I, me too, please? Can I come now, please say I can?!” 

 

John leans forward, his lips just barely out of reach of Greg’s and says, “yes, you may. Let me see what my boy’s done to you.” 

 

He doesn’t hesitate. Greg lets his hips go, pounding into Sherlock three, four, five more times and then he lets himself go. When he comes it’s with a long, low groan as he shivers. He can feel himself pulse in Sherlock’s body, can feel the obscene wetness of his release as it rushes to spill out of Sherlock as he grinds into him to prolong his pleasure. He slumps forward, covering Sherlock’s body to breathe heavily into his neck. 

 

He’s fairly certain that he’s died and gone to heaven. His softening cock is nestled comfortably inside Sherlock, and someone is running their fingers slowly through his hair. 

 

“That was… spectacular. You two look incredible together. I’m so proud of you both, you did so well - you’ve done everything I’ve asked of you.”

 

Greg manages to raise his head, to see John smiling, his face pressed against Sherlock’s crown. Sherlock is gazing at Greg, still looking somewhat dazed. He’s too tempting a sight, and Greg leans forward to kiss him. It’s slow, sated - Greg finally has the opportunity to luxuriate in it, not distracted by his own raging arousal or what might be next. When he pulls back John is resting his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder, his eyes hungry. 

 

And that brings back to Greg’s attention that there is still one of them that hasn’t come. He leans forward to offer his mouth, pleased when John takes him up on it. “What would you like us to do for you, John? You’ve looked after us so well, I want to see you come, too”

 

Sherlock rocks back a little against John. “You’re still so hard, John. Do you want us to make you come, now?”

 

“My good boys. Rest a little - recover. Once you’ve caught your breath, I’ll ask you for what I want”

 

Despite it’s best efforts, Greg’s erection has softened and he slowly slips out of Sherlock, followed by a dribble of his come. A full body shiver flows through Sherlock at that, and Greg can’t not kiss him again. After a quick, hard kiss, he moves sideways, allowing Sherlock to move his legs from where they’ve been spread wide for a while. Sherlock nuzzles his face into John’s neck, starts placing kisses wherever he can reach. Greg dares to join him and do the same on the other side. 

 

“Feeling recovered already, are we? Right then. Up, for a minute”

 

Greg and Sherlock kneel on the bed, while John stands. He slowly removes the remainder of his clothing, piling it on top of the nearby chest of drawers. He moves back to the bed and sits at the head, his back resting against the headboard. 

 

“Sherlock, why don’t you show Greg what I like when you kiss my body like that.”

 

Greg watches Sherlock kneel up and move closer, before he begins placing open mouthed kisses on John’s collarbone, moving down his chest, to his nipples. He watches for a moment, seeing how Sherlock alternates moving his tongue over the surface before sucking on it a little. Then he starts himself, working down the other side of John’s torso. Sherlock is on John’s left side, so Greg doesn’t have to worry about how to handle John’s scar. When they’ve got a nipple each, John groans and places a hand on each of their napes. 

 

“God, that’s - so good, both of you. Why don’t you take those mouths further down, now” Gentle pressure encourages Greg down. Sherlock gets to John’s cock first, Sweeps his tongue over the head and down the underside. Greg bites his lip and can’t help the noise that rumbles out of his throat. Sherlock looks up at him with a frankly devilish look in his eye, and tips his head pointedly to one side, raising an eyebrow. His mouth is now only moving over the left side of John’s cock, and that’s an invitation Greg’s not about to resist. 

 

He presses open mouthed kisses down John’s cock, before using the flat of his tongue and moving his mouth along its length. Sherlock synchronises with him, their lips brushing around the firm erection between them. They’ve both ended up laying on their stomachs, propped up by their elbows, and while the angle is awkward Greg can just about see John’s face, which is somewhat slack-jawed as he stares down at them. Then Greg has a wicked idea. He catches Sherlock’s eye before gripping the back of his head to hold him steady. He presses forward to seal their lips together around the head of John’s cock in what is probably the filthiest kiss he’s ever had.

 

“ _ Christ! _ Fuck,” John gasps as together their tongues flick around his head and frenulum while they attempt to kiss one another with John between them. It’s wet. It’s messy. It’s glorious. 

 

Greg pulls back and let’s Sherlock swallow John down while he strokes the base, making sure no part of John’s erection goes unstimulated. When Sherlock pulls off, he replaces Sherlock’s mouth with his own. They take turns sucking and licking until John’s hips start to move as he chases his long awaited orgasm. 

 

“Oh God, fuck fuck fuck, your  _ mouths! _ ” John’s got his hands in their hair, gripping and tugging. “Turn your heads to the side, open for me, let me use you,” John tells them. They comply and John begins to fuck up into the wet ring of lips they’ve created. Greg can feel Sherlock’s tongue as he licks John while he slides through their lips. Greg groans and adds his own tongue to the mix and it isn’t long before John’s ready to come. 

 

“Gonna come, gonna come now, sit back for me, cheeks together,” John tells them. They press close together and crane their necks up, mouths open as John moves to his knees. His hand flies over his cock, angling towards Sherlock and then he’s coming. 

 

The first spurt lands just to the left of Sherlock’s mouth but the next one lands on his waiting tongue. His eyes flutter closed with a groan.

 

_ “Ooh, fuck yes!  _ That’s beautiful. _ ”  _

 

Greg’s panting, wanting to taste John too, worried that he’ll be forgotten. But he needn’t have worried. John moves his pulsing cockhead to Greg’s mouth, smearing his twitching slit across his tongue to ensure Greg, too, gets some of his come. His hand flies, milking himself as he makes several passes between their lips to coat them both. When Greg realizes a little has fallen on his chin to dribble downwards he moans in embarrassment. 

 

_ God _ , what he must look like. 

 

John sighs in relief when he’s done, sagging back onto his heels to breathe heavily. It’s only then he’s realized that neither of them have closed their mouths to swallow yet. 

 

John leans forward, hands on their napes and says, “ _ ooh _ , that’s bloody gorgeous. Look at you two.” He bites his lip, groaning at the sight. Greg’s eyes sweep downward to see that John’s cock gives a hopeful twitch. He’s sure if he hadn’t just come John just might come from the sight of them alone. “Alright now, swallow for me boys.” Greg closes his mouth to swallow. His tongue instinctively darts out to lick at what he can on his chin and John moans, “yes, that’s it. Lick it all up for me.” John’s thumb comes to swipe the rest that he can’t reach and pushes it into his mouth. He sucks on it, happily cleaning John’s thumb. “I think we might have missed some - help him get it, won’t you, Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock dives in and swipes his tongue along Greg’s lower lip before kissing him and Greg can taste John’s come on him. Sherlock pulls back and winks. 

 

Then, just like that, the air is lifted, the mood is light, and Greg can’t help but giggle. He rolls onto his back, throwing an arm over his face as he laughs, hardly believing this night ever happened. 

 

“John,” Sherlock says, voice full of amusement, “I think we broke him.” 

 

John chuckles and pets Greg’s hair and says, “might just have.” 

 

“Too right. Broken. Dead. Not even a little bit sad about it,” Greg replies, smiling. 

 

“Well, I should hope not,” Sherlock says somewhat haughtily. 

 

Greg peers out from under his arm and says, “now don’t go fishing for compliments just yet. Need my brain to resolidify in my skull. Try again in ten minutes.” 

 

John barks out a laugh and then they’re all laughing. It takes some finagling, but eventually they’re all cuddled together, John in the middle with a head on each shoulder. When they’ve settled down John kisses them both deeply and Greg can’t help but feel cherished. 

 

But then a sharp thought makes him tense up.  _ What happens now, _ he thinks. 

 

Of course Sherlock can read it in his face and he says, “John, I think our dear detective is panicking over the logistics.” 

 

John looks down at him in concern. “Is that right? Are you alright?” 

 

Greg licks his dry lips and shrugs. “I just...want to know what happens now.” 

 

Sherlock yawns and stretches his tight limbs before collapsing back into John. “Well, for now we get a good cuddle in while we come down. Then, once he’s happy and convinced we’re suitably recovered, John will go and fetch us a glass of water and me some pain killers - don’t give me that look, you know perfectly well you didn’t hurt me, it’s to get a jump on my body for tomorrow. Then I propose we take a shower and change the sheets while John’s ordering from the late night thai place.”

 

John interjects, “you like thai, right?” Greg nods numbly and John continues. “Good, they’re a favorite of Himself over here,” he squeezes Sherlock round the shoulders and smiles fondly. 

 

Sherlock finishes with, “after we eat I think a good sleep is in order.” 

 

“All of that sounds nice,” Greg says, “but not really what I was asking.” 

 

“Then ask,” Sherlock says, eyeing him. 

 

Greg squirms under that gaze. Despite what they’ve just done, he’s never been comfortable vocalizing what he wants or needs. John thankfully lets him off the hook. 

 

“I think he wants to know what becomes of our dynamic.” 

 

Greg nods. “Yes. That.” 

 

John and Sherlock exchange a silent communication done entirely with lip twitches and eyebrow lifts and it’s crazy to watch. They both turn to Greg and John says, “I think we can all agree that this was wonderful.” Greg’s belly swoops, thinking he’s about to be told that this was a one-time thing. “And,” John adds, “I think we can both agree that we’d be interested in this happening again.” He smiles at him softly, “if you’d like to, of course.” 

 

Greg can’t help but smile wide. “I’d love to.” 

 

“Excellent,” Sherlock says, a grin of his own smeared across his face. Suddenly he goes limp, head falling to John’s chest. “No more talking, only cuddling.” 

 

Greg giggles, snuggling down into John. “Never pictured you as a cuddler.” 

 

John chuckles, squeezing them both close, “believe me. Surprised me too.” Sherlock groans in protest and their laughs grow then gently fizzles out. Greg sighs happily and thanks his lucky stars, already looking forward to next time. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter in a week! See you soon ;) ~Ivy


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